He Got Him
by Spaceteapack
Summary: "It was a really bad idea, sharing a flat with a bloody frog like him. But...um...well...*ahem* okay. He got me." Songfic for Colbie Caillat's You Got Me. T for swearings. FrUK.


A/N: This is hm...well... My first songfic. Thanks to Hikou no Kokoro for the review and advices :)

Disclaimer: Hetalia is Himaruya's and the song, You got me is sung by Colbie Caillat. Not mine, okay? This story is mine, though...

* * *

"We had been sharing the flat for about a year that time. I seriously thought that it was a really bad idea, sharing a flat with a bloody frog like him. But...um...well…" Arthur cleared his throat, "Okay. He got me."

* * *

"Oh sod off! Just let me enjoy my bloody Saturday evening, won't you?"

"Oui, oui, mon cher." Francis laughed his 'ohonhon' laugh, "I'll let you enjoy your Lady Time~"

"You bloody frog! I hate you!" Arthur stomped on his way to his favourite spot in their shared flat.

"Oui, je t'aime, mon cher!" Francis shouted, staring at Arthur's back.

Maybe it was his eyes but he swore he saw Arthur's cheek in a deep red colour and his lip corners pulled very slightly into a smile.

* * *

"What are you staring at? You're creepy," Arthur said, putting down the cup on the table, looking at the man who was leaning on the kitchen counter staring at him.

"Hm..." Francis walked closer to the couch where Arthur was sitting.

"What? Creepy!" Arthur took a fashion magazine (Francis', of course) and in defense, threw it to Francis' direction. But to his distaste, it was catched by Francis.

"Don't throw my magazine, okay? You're ruining it," Francis said, still walking.

3 more steps.

"S-serves you right for being creepy!" Arthur (tried to) shout and stood, preparing himself to escape but ended up trapped between Francis' hand on his left and right, his face in front of him.

Francis used his left hand fingers to softly lift Arthur's face but strong enough that Arthur couldn't turn away. He stared at Arthur's eyes. Arthur looked away.

"Have I told you this before, mon lapin?" he let go of Arthur's face. "You have crazily thick eyebrows that even from a metre away, only your eyebrows that could be seen."

Arthur scrunched his face, opened his mouth just in time when Francis took a step back and said, «mais vous avez les yeux verts incroyablement beaux». Francis smiled and went to the kitchen to continue cooking for dinner, leaving a crimson faced Arthur.

* * *

Arthur was drunk. Francis was, too. They were at Alfred's birthday party that night. The American always held the biggest party in the neighbourhood, filled with foods from almost all around the world, and all kinds of alcoholic drink.

Arthur, had never been much of a drinker, but he still drank, being the Arthur he was. Francis was a good drinker but he was challenged to a drink competition with Ivan who could, like, drink two bottles of vodka in a minute and continue it forever. So he lost, of course.

"Whoops."

"Toni you bastard I told you we should just leave them in Alfred's house."

"But we can't leave them there..."

"Yeah fine, now just open the fucking door so we can just put these two bastards on their couch."

"But Lovi..."

"Fucking NO, bastard! Leave them on the couch, or I won't talk to you for a whole year!"

Antonio sighed at that and started searching for the key in Arthur's pocket who was too drunk to care.

When they finally entered the flat, Francis and Arthur were laid on the couch.

"Come on, bastard, just leave them there!"

"Okay..." And so, they were left there. Laid with Francis half on top of Arthur.

The only sound was the clock ticking and the sound of the small bell, dinging twelve times.

"Ze furn't'r are 'avin a ball." Francis opened his eyes slowly. He stood, crazily swayed, poked at Arthur's ribs to wake him up and bowed clumsily, "May moi 'ave your dance?"

Arthur grunted, but when he saw Francis' hand in front of him, he stretched his hand, reaching Francis'. He mumbled a slurped sure and using Francis' hand as support, stood.

They danced. Swaying, clumsy, but still, danced. They swung back and forth, stepped on each others thumbs.

* * *

Arthur was the first to wake up. His head was heavy and it felt like someone was hitting it. He was laying on the couch, apparently, but why was his feet so heavy?

"W-what the.." He saw a certain French, half upper body on top of his feet, while the other half was on the floor. Clothed, thank God. Francis was heavy and Arthur didn't have the energy to move so he let his head fall to the couch and tried to remember what happened last night.

'Hm... Party, drove home and...?' he thought, trying harder to remember. And he did remember.

Francis asked for his dance. His bloody dance and he said yes. Bollocks.

But Francis' hand was really nice. It was slightly bigger than his. A bit calloused, but it still felt nice. He blushed and looked at Francis who just sighed in his sleep and smiled crookedly.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with me? He's just a big frog," Arthur muttered then closed his eyes.

* * *

They had a quite fancy dinner together in their flat because Arthur's novel would be published. Francis wanted them to just eat at a good French restaurant but Arthur said that he wanted a homemade, so there they were. Sitting across each other on the table, separated by some fancy looking great foods Francis cooked, two glasses, a bottle of wine and a vase of rose.

"Congratulations on your novel, mon cher." Francis smiled, looking into the deep emerald eyes of his flatmate.

"Yes, thank you." Arthur blushed, 'No, I'm not blushing. I'm not blushing because this frog cooked me nice food and decorated this dining table to celebrate my novel.' Deep breath, 'But why the hell did he decorate it in such a romantic way? Dammit Francis.'

After the dinner, they put the dishes in the dishwasher and somehow, ended up in position where Arthur was between the kitchen counter and Francis.

"Arthur," Francis said and put his hands on each side of Arthur's hips.

"W-what the hell, frog?!" Arthur flinched and tried to bat Francis' hands when their lips met.

Francis' lips were soft on his. It felt...nice. But just when he started to relax, Francis pulled away.

"Je t'aime, Arthur." Arthur blushed and looked away.

Then Arthur's hand moved to fall on Francis shoulder. Their lips were touching again for a short moment. When they let go, Arthur was blushing even deeply and Francis was looking at his eyes.

Arthur got on his tiptoe and mumbled "I l-l-love you too,"on Francis lips.

And they kissed, again. Deep, this time. It was soft and slow; it wasn't like they were trying to win. They just kissed and enjoy the moment. Like they were enjoying a nice drink.

When they pulled away, it was just to take a breath then starting to kiss and feel each other again.

Francis tasted like the best wine, smelled like rose, and soft as a feather pillow, Arthur could spend forever tasting him.

Arthur tasted like tea, sweet, bitter, but he could never get enough. He smelled like a blooming tea rose and rain, the smell which Francis decided to be his favourite immediately.

* * *

When the kiss ended and their breaths even, Francis lifted Arthur's hand and kissed his knuckles. An action that could make Arthur blushed deeply if he hadn't, but he had already been blushing deeply so no, it didn't make a change in colour, just Arthur's eyes widening.

"Since you love me, then...will you be mine?" Francis asked, looking deep in Arthur's emerald eyes.

"Yes. Sure. Yeah." Arthur whispered, "oui."

* * *

They fought, a lot. They argue. But then they will still end up giving each other their favourite flower bouquet. They would forgive each other, they would hug, then kiss, then make love, then it will be alright. They knew they loved each other, would always do, and they knew they would stay in each other's heart no matter what happened.

~Fin~

A/N: Whoaaa.. Finally finished it. I edited it, but I might have missed some mistakes and it's still far from perfect so if you find anything wrong, please tell me. Thanks! :)

And the French above meant "but you have incredibly beautiful eyes"


End file.
